


Alescar the Grey

by Alescar



Series: Alescar and Other Related Tales [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alescar - Freeform, LOTR, Mary-Sue, OC, not canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alescar/pseuds/Alescar
Summary: It's just a story I made about a girl who ends up saving the world. So basically, a short young adult book. Alescar may be a Mary Sue. I apologize in advance.





	Alescar the Grey

**Author's Note:**

> No, this won't fit perfectly. I made it before I finished reading.

The elves have returned to middle earth, just in time to stop Gondor and Rohan from claiming Lothlorien, Rivendell, and Mirkwood. Our story is about a young, half-elvish girl learning to be a wizard, dating the prince of Gondor, and trying to stop a war between Men and Elves. None of this is canon, so just relax.

“Back up, Alescar,” yelled Aragog, prince of Gondor, “Block! Thrust! Parry!” I sighed. I would never learn to use a sword. My elvish side refused to be competent with anything but a bow and a dagger, the traditional elvish weapons. At least I could dodge his blows fast enough.  
“I’ll never get this,” I called back, “I can’t fight with anything but a bow, dagger, or magic staff.” That magic staff thing is from my chosen profession, magic. My Elvish side was fighting doing anything but healing with it. Sometimes I hate my elvish side.  
I guess I should explain the elf thing. Short story: Civil war in Valinor. Elves left for peace. Came to middle earth, retook old territories. Of course, the full story is more complicated than that, involving a small war between men and elves over the territories. But that was years ago. Now they interact with each other more than before the elves left, though only my parents went so far as to fall in love.  
“Great,” I muttered. He had stabbed me in the leg. I whispered a quick healing spell. The wound disappeared.  
“You need to stop zoning out,” a voice at my ear said. I started. “Could you not sneak up on me like that?” I asked, my voice thick with annoyance. He had a habit of silently coming up behind me then whispering in my ear. His father, Aragorn, was Dúnedain, and his mother, Arwen, was an elf who chose mortality during the Dark War. That made for an interesting mix, giving him silence, balance, good bearings, and fast healing. He was currently trying to teach me to swordfight, and I was failing miserably. But back to what’s happening.  
“Just give up,” I sighed, “I can’t use a sword and that’s that. I’m no better at it than I am at seeing through stone. Besides, I have lessons in an hour.” This time it was his turn to sigh.  
“I know,” he said, “But I can’t help but wonder what would happen if you quit magic lessons to learn how to swordfight.”  
“What would happen is that we would inconveniently fall in love right before a big war between Elves and Men and get stuck on different sides,” I told him, “Fate has a way of doing that. It also has a very sadistic sense of humor.”  
“You're right, as usual,” he replied, “Now hurry off to those lessons so that doesn’t happen.” And so, that is how the tale begins.  
Okay, you know how I said my parents were in love? That wasn’t strictly true. A witch cast a spell on them, and the spell wore off, so I was just a reminder of a mistake. They abandoned me in the woods, but made the mistake of choosing the woods near the wizard Radagast the Brown, who believes that everything deserves a chance to live. He rescued me and taught me magic, pretending he didn’t know who my parents were, and hiding me from the world, sending me out when visitors came. And I didn’t know, until one day, when Gandalf the White was visiting. I had gone to retrieve some herbs, but came back early and saw Gandalf’s horse, Shadowfax, outside, and put my ear to the wall on the other side of the house to listen.  
“Do you really have no idea who her parents are?” Gandalf asked,  
“That was a necessary lie, to protect her,” Radagast answered, “Her true parents are Thranduil and Éowyn,”  
“Interesting,” Gandalf mused, “How did they ever fall in love?”  
“The dark enchantress Medea cast a spell on Thranduil, hoping to catch his eye. She should not have done it while Éowyn was visiting, for Éowyn is much prettier than Medea”  
“And they abandoned Alescar in your woods?”  
“Yes. she is training to be the next Gray wizard,”  
“You would never notice, not without further knowledge, that she was Thranduil’s daughter. But now, it is hard to see how I missed it. Train her well, and when she is ready, let her know her heritage,”  
“I shall,”  
And that was that, neither knowing I knew who my parents were.  
But back to the present. Today, though I said I had magic lessons, I did not, for Gandalf the White was visiting, and I was not supposed to meet anyone but Aragog and Radagast. I know I told Aragog I had lessons, but I really just wanted to get out of swordfighting. I hate swordfighting. Today, instead of using full Elvish speed to run back home, I could use mostly elvish speed to run back home, and get to enjoy the scenery more than usual. The scenery was boring. I ran home. Out of earshot of the house, I have a forge. I built it out of earshot in case Radagast was napping or having visitors over. Over the past week, I’ve been working on an enchanted ring to repel small parties of Orcs, Goblins, Wargs, and bandits. Today, I would get the chance to finish it.  
When I got to the forge, there was a strange green glow coming from the ring. Into the silver I had set a small jade stone. That was where the glow came from. But the glow that is made when a repelling spell is done is purple. This was not normal. I decided not to forge.  
When I came back to the house, Gandalf was gone. Radagast was outside, drying herbs.  
“You're home early,” he called when I came into view,  
“I said I had lessons to get out of swordfighting,” I called back, “I really don’t like swordfighting. Also, the ring I’m working on started glowing green, and I’m not sure I should go near it,”  
“Probably wise,” he replied, “And I believe I know why it’s glowing. You have created the fourth elvish ring, the ring of earth.”  
“But how?” I asked, confused. “I didn’t even know that was possible,”  
“It is. And it is very dangerous, for an evil prophecy has been activated. You should probably run to Gondor and save Arwen before Medea possesses Aragorn and Aragog.”  
“And where should I take Arwen?”  
“Lothlorien. It is one of the few places she will be safe. And take that ring. It can still fend off Orcs.”  
“Then I shall.”

Fast forward to me running cross-country. Minas Tirith, the main city, where Arwen, Aragorn, and Aragog lived. I ran through the gate just as screams started from the castle, spreading outward. I cursed in elvish, then ran faster. I reached the castle just as Arwen was fleeing it. In elvish, I called, “This way!” she darted towards me, but just as she reached me, she was hit by a stun arrow. For those of you who don’t know what a stun arrow is, it’s an arrow that’s been enchanted to knock out, not pierce, a target. I lifted the queen into my arms, then sprinted out the main gate, heading to Lothlorien. I knew there was a White Council being held there now, with Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond, and Celeborn. They were not to be interrupted, but I just needed to go behind a tree near the edge so that arrows cannot reach me or Arwen. Because we would be in the elvish woods, they would not be trying to stun us. They would be trying to kill us.  
Now, for all you parents reading this as a ridiculously complicated bedtime story, pretend I made it to Lothlorien and the leaders of elves and men talked out their differences, because that is better than the blood, lies, love, and hidden family members to come. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  
I made it to the wood’s edge, and ducked behind a relatively thick Mallorn a little ways in. Arwen was still unconscious, but the spell was starting to wear off. I looked around the Mallorn trunk. Wow. They had brought horses, just to get access to Arwen. Well, there would be no hiding here until morning. Elves notice things like an eighth of the Gondorian army at the edge of their territory. My ring couldn’t help, with that army not being orcs, and I couldn’t move earth with it, because then I would be in trouble with the elves for making a magic ring without the proper paperwork. I don’t even know where to get the paperwork.  
Suddenly, a party of elvish warriors appeared. Five of them immediately surrounded me and made me walk to the edge of the woods with them. Their captain, who I recognised as Haldir, asked,  
“What business do the men of Gondor have at the Edge of Lothlorien?”  
“We seek a girl and our queen.” Answered a Gondor man I did not recognise.  
“What business do you have with a girl?”  
“She kidnapped the queen.”  
I needed to speak out.  
“I brought the queen away from those who would do her harm at the will of Medea. Where do you find fault in that?” I inquired.  
“Medea?” He replied, “Medea is in our court, but our orders came from the king, backed by his son. Medea gave us these arrows,”  
“I am aware of where your orders came from, as I have a mental link with the son. Recently, that link went dark, as only comes with partial possession,” I replied, “I brought the queen to a place I knew you could not pursue me,”  
“Medea?” Haldir inquired, “The presence of that name is unsettling. But what your queen? What part does she play?”  
“She is a lady of the court who cannot succumb to possession, and Medea wishes all under her own control,” I told him.  
“But what is her end goal, and how do you know so much about her?” he questioned me.  
“She wishes to start a war between Men and Elves,” I replied, “And my sources are my own.”  
“Very well. But there is a White Council currently happening, and it needs to be informed of this. Will you come?” He inquired. “I will.” I replied. And with that, we set off into Lothlorien.

When we got to the clearing of the white council, they were discussing what the soldiers from Gondor could want. Haldir stepped forward.  
“They came for a girl and their queen,” he told them.  
“Is the girl they came for the girl behind you?” inquired Galadriel, “What could they want with her?”  
“The girl behind me is who they came for, and what they wanted of her was to bring her into custody, for she bore their queen to safety, against their orders.”  
“Arwen?” Elrond gasped. He looked at me. “What has happened to her?”  
“She was hit by a stun arrow,” I replied, “And not a very strong one.”  
“Where did they find stun arrows?” inquired Gandalf.  
“Medea.” I replied, the name bitter on my tongue. “Medea gave them stun arrows, and partially possessed Aragorn and Aragog.”  
“Medea?” Celeborn asked incredulously, “Medea has not been seen for sixteen years. Why should she choose to arise now?”  
“I can answer that,” said Gandalf, “Alescar, I told Radagast to tell you your heritage when it was time, but it is time now and he is not here, so it is up to me to tell you. Before you were born, Éowyn was visiting Thranduil to sign a treaty. While the treaty was being signed, Medea cast a love spell on Thranduil, wishing for herself to take the place of the queen of Mirkwood, but her aim was off, and instead of hitting just Thranduil, she hit both Thranduil and Éowyn. The two fell madly in love for one day, and had you. When the spell wore off, they were horrified at what they’d done. They abandoned you in Rhosgobel, where Radagast found you. All of this information I have told you was given to me either by Radagast, Éowyn, or Thranduil.”  
“But what of Medea’s timing?” Celeborn inquired again.  
“Alescar is sixteen now, a mortal age of decisions,” Gandalf answered, “Medea knows this is a turning point in politics, and wishes to have a say in it.”  
Suddenly, a crack of thunder boomed in the sky, odd, because, for one reason, there were no clouds or lightning, and for another, because it was winter. But back to the story.  
I felt the Ring of Earth fly out of my hand. Elrond and Galadriel looked at their hands in amazement, for Elrond wore the lost Ring of Water, and Galadriel the lost Ring of Air. Our strange council could only assume that Thranduil had the Ring of Earth I had forged.  
“What magic is this,” inquired Elrond, “As to bring us the Lost Rings? For no spell remains to summon them, or else they would have been found, and also for them to be placed on the hands of the elvish rulers!”  
“I have seen nothing of the sort before, in my mirror,” Said Galadriel.  
“Nor have I heard of such a spell.” mused Gandalf.  
“It is not in Radagast’s extensive library,” I said, “Is it possible Medea tried to summon them to her hand but failed?” I asked.  
“Perhaps.” replied Gandalf, “But I dearly hope she does not have that kind of power.” “  
Where am I?” asked Arwen, having just awoken.  
“Safe, in Lothlorien.” responded Elrond, who promptly put his daughter on her feet but continued to support most of her weight. Suddenly, we began to notice a lavender and peach dawn on the horizon.  
“Goodness!” Gandalf said, “We have been out all night! Return home, and in one week journey to Thranduil’s halls, to include him in our counsels. And Alescar, bring Radagast for these councils.”  
And so it was that, that Elrond and Arwen went to Rivendell, I went to Radagast’s house, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Haldir remained in Lothlorien, and Gandalf went wherever he went whenever he did not have a reason to travel.

In exactly one week, Radagast and I had set out, me on foot and him of his Rhosgobel rabbit sleigh, when Elrond and Arwen came into view on the western horizon. We paused to let them catch up with us, then set out together. It wasn’t far in the remainder of our journey, and we got there quickly. Being in Mirkwood is always creepy, but we never strayed from the path, unlike a certain party of dwarves and a hobbit. When we got to the fork in the road, we took a left, to Thranduil’s halls, rather than straight and out the other side of Mirkwood. When we neared the gates of Thranduil’s halls, I couldn’t help but remember the story of the aforementioned group of dwarves. But this was different. We were invited guests here, our mission in complete knowledge of the king. Oh yes, the king. My father. This was going to be awkward.  
When we passed through the gates, we immediately noticed Shadowfax and two elven steeds grazing in the small meadow. Gandalf, Galadriel, and Celeborn were here already. Figures. They didn’t have to pass over the mountains. Well, actually, Gandalf may have had to pass over the mountains, but he rides the king of horses.  
When we came in, we were welcomed with a cordial bow, which we returned. An elvish maiden named Mavela led us to the chamber where the Elvenking, his son Legolas, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf sat. Radagast squeezed my hand. Every set of eyes in the room was either on me or my father. We pretended like nothing of the sort was happening. I took my seat, between Radagast and Arwen. The Elvenking sat at the head of the table, with Elrond on his left and Legolas on his right. Next to Legolas sat Galadriel and Celeborn, then Gandalf.  
“We all know what we’re here for, with the possible exceptions of Radagast and Legolas,” Gandalf said, officially starting the meeting. “The enchantress Medea has taken control of Gondor, a new ring of power has been forged, and the lost rings of power have been found.”  
Silence.  
“In the week since our White Council, I have journeyed to Gondor. It seems as though nothing is amiss, with the exception of Medea in the court.”  
“Medea?” Thranduil asked incredulously, “What is Medea doing in the court of Gondor?”  
“We can only assume Medea wishes for power, and finds it there. What she plans to do with that power we do not know,” responded Galadriel, “We do not know her mind.”  
Alescar?” Arwen asked quietly, “I know you have a mental link with my son. Have you felt anything through it recently?” All eyes turned to me.  
“No.” I admitted. “I felt it go dark when he was first possessed. It was what made me go looking for you.” The room’s posture sank. Everyone here knew that mental links were extremely rare and extremely powerful, and few things had the power to end them.  
Suddenly, a crash rang out from the hallway, along with the sound of metal clashing with metal. We ran to the doorway, and Legolas flung it open wide.  
There were about ten orcs in the hall, fighting the guards. Those of us who had brought weapons to the meeting drew them and joined the melee.  
Within minutes, all orcs but one were dead. This one Legolas held at knifepoint and demanded to know why they came. The orc said:  
“Aragorn has told us to stage a futile attack against you, to make you aware of the threat. He always prefers fair wars, the weakling.” At this Legolas was outraged.  
“My friend Aragorn is a good man, and would do no such thing.” He said, and killed the orc.  
“That may not be true.” Arwen said quietly, “Aragorn is under the control of Medea. Medea has no qualms about such things as friends.”  
At this Legolas sighed. He knew about the possession, but had hope that his old friend could be the same man underneath. Many years ago, the had an adventure together, along with Gimli the dwarf. Sadly, Gimli had passed on, but the friendship remained.  
Our council returned to the small room, and we retook our seats. I could tell that the battle had shaken Thranduil. He was supposed to be safe in his own halls, yet a small party of orcs had interrupted the meeting of the most powerful people in middle earth. He was not the only one shaken. Everyone, even Gandalf, looked slightly nervous as they took their seats. I am certain that I am not the only one with shivers running up their spine  
“After that ordeal, I am sure I am not the only one worried about what this means,” Gandalf said, “Legolas, Celeborn, Alescar, I thank you for defeating those orcs, but what that last orc said unsettles me. For I do not believe that Aragorn or Medea would send soldiers on a suicide mission to tell us that war had come. I believe they were here to spy and report back, but whether to Medea or a third power I do not know.”  
“A third power? Why would someone want to be in the middle of this?” Arwen asked. She had a point. Nobody liked a war.  
“Perhaps Far Harad,” Elrond answered, “They always hated the White City, and live next to Mordor. Yet I feel that they are not it, and remember, there may not be a third power at all.”  
Everyone sighed. This meeting had done nothing but raise more questions.  
“How did they know we would be here?” I asked.  
“What do you mean?” Celeborn inquired.  
“I mean, what the odds that they’ll choose the exact time and place of our council?” I explained. Said council went deep into thought, wondering about the knowledge.  
Suddenly, Arwen spoke out:  
“What of the birds? We know that Aragorn speaks their language, and some must have been listening.”  
“Your theory seems sound,” Gandalf said, “But how are we to keep the birds from listening? And which birds do we need to beware?”  
“That night,” Galadriel said, “There were two ravens in the woods. They are not native to the area, and I wondered their purpose. Now I know.”  
“The news is unsettling,” Elrond said, “But what do we do against them?”  
“We employ our own birds.” It was the first time Radagast had spoken out all meeting. “I’ll ask the sparrows and robins to spy on them for us, and for them to carry messages.”  
“Good.” Gandalf said. “In the meantime, I’ll go to Rohan to see if they are also under Medea’s spell. Await my bird.”  
And with that, the meeting ended.

After we got out of Mirkwood, I lingered by the edge of the path.  
“Go on,” Radagast urged, “You have not seen your friend Beo in many a month.”  
“Thank you.” I replied. He was getting good at reading me.  
My friend Beo is a skin-changer, one of the mighty descendants of Beorn, although while most people in his family were black bears or not skin-changers, he had white fur. It set him apart from his family, and he often went into the woods for months at a time. That was how we had met, in the woods. I sighed at the memory. Everything had been so much simpler then. Heck, everything had been much simpler two weeks ago. No dark enchantress to worry about.  
I went into the woods to a waterfall I usually find him at. The small creek had frozen, leaving gorgeous, glittering icicles. Beo was standing in human form over the bank, his long, dark hair in sharp contrast with the white snow. He heard my approach and whirled around, simultaneously drawing his knife. When he saw me, his face softened.  
“Alescar,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “What are you doing here?” He asked, not angry or irritated, just surprised.  
“I haven’t seen you in a while. I wondered what you were up to.” I answered him.  
“You shouldn’t have come. These are very dangerous times. Orcs being more prominent, Gondor persecuting elves. I doubt even your connection to Aragog will except you.” His voice was reprimanding, but his eyes were worried.  
“I know about that. What is this really about?” I asked him. He was nervous about something, and not just orcs or Gondor. He sighed.  
“My father is starting to believe what Gondor says,” he admitted.  
“Ah,” I said, “May I ask, why is he starting to believe what Gondor says? He live right next to elves!”  
“I know,” he sighed, “And it wouldn’t have happened had my mother still been around. It’s strange, though. He seemed to start believing Gondor right after a strange woman in a multicolored robe came to visit.” I visibly stiffened.  
“What is it?” He asked, coming to put his arm around my waist.  
“Medea.” I replied, preoccupied with the thoughts swirling around in my head. Skin-changers were supposed to be immune to mental suggestions, but Beo’s father was one of the strongest, and his thoughts had been swayed by Medea. Things were worse than we thought.  
“Medea?” He asked, “How can you be so sure it was the dark enchantress?” His tone was confused, for good reason. Medea was supposed to be dead.  
“Because, when I came to you today, it was from the east. I came from a council in Mirkwood, where we discussed the growing threat of Medea controlling the mind of the king of Gondor.” This time it was his turn to stiffen. He knew that of all the elvish leaders, Thranduil was the weakest. To include him in the council, things must be bad. I turned to leave. Hopefully, I could run fast enough to catch up to Elrond and Arwen.  
“Where are you going?” Beo asked.  
“To attempt to catch up to Elrond, and tell him of this threat.” I replied.  
“I’ll come too,” he said, surprising me. “I was listening to their conversation. If not for my friendship with you, I would also have been swayed.” And with that, we nearly flew over the high pass, running like a Balrog was chasing us.

I could just barely see Elrond up ahead, and I could hear Beo panting beside me. They were nearly to the border of Rivendell when Elrond heard us coming and turned around. He was surprised to see me and a white bear running towards him. I slowed down, and Beo turned into a human again. Elrond’s face softened with a little understanding. I had come with a skin-changer. That made sense. Well, actually, he didn’t know why I had brought Beo, but it explained the bear. We caught up to them just as they got to the creek on the edge of Rivendell.  
“Alescar?” Arwen asked. She looked surprised to see me here, which was understandable. I got straight to the point.  
“Bain has fallen under Medea’s spell.” I said.  
“How?” Elrond asked, “The skin-changers are immune to mental swaying.”  
“That’s what I thought,” said Beo grimly, “But my father has fallen under her sway.”  
“This changes everything,” Elrond said. You could see there were thoughts swirling around in his mind. “If the skin-changers can be magically swayed, then many things, perhaps even elves, can.”  
“Elves can’t be swayed,” I said, “Or else she would not have chased Arwen and me to Lothlorien.” Elrond puzzled over this. Finally, he said, “I must ponder this far longer than we can stand here. Alescar, Beo, go to Rhosgobel and stay with Radagast until the next council.” And so we went on to Rhosgobel.

It was two weeks until the next council. During those two weeks, we had some very inane conversations. Most of them went like this:  
Me: This is inane.  
Beo: No, this is asinine.  
Radagast: Just keep weeding, you two.  
It was a very boring two weeks.

Finally, we got the next bird message. It was the day before the meeting, telling us to meet at Rivendell. The people who were farther away probably got longer notice, but it was more than enough time to get there for us. Radagast and Beo took a small nap, while I paced.  
We started at 6:00 in the morning. It took about one hour to get to Rivendell, so we would be early to the meeting, which was at 8:00. I wondered who else was coming, and if Elrond figured out how Medea could have swayed Bain. It made sense to absolutely no one in our group of three, and it made Beo nervous that he would betray me. I knew he wouldn’t betray me, though. There was something that set him apart from his father, that made his fur white. I didn’t know what it was, but it was there.  
When we got to the creek making the border of Rivendell, it was frozen over, but if more than one of us crossed at a time, it would break. We decided by mutual recognition that Radagast would cross first, since Beo and I were more likely to be able to jump across. Just as Beo had made it across, with hairline cracks forming in the ice, a wind picked up and deposited a large amount of snow from the tree branches. That was too much for the ice. It cracked, and a cold creek was revealed underneath. I sighed. I guess I would have to jump. I backtracked three steps, then ran, and at the last possible second jumped. I landed on the other side in about one inch of icy water. I quickly hopped onto the snow. Thankfully, even wet my elven slippers kept me above the snow.  
“Can we please just go to Rivendell?” I asked. Radagast and Beo had been staring at me, surprised I had mostly cleared the creek. They snapped out of it, and we continued to Rivendell.

Gandalf was there before we were. Shadowfax must have gotten faster since the last time someone recorded his speed. Oh well. I’m fairly certain that if he wanted to, Gandalf could get here before Elrond would, just because he could. Gandalf, Elrond, and Arwen were gathered in the same chamber where they had held the Council of Elrond so many years ago. Arwen was sitting, Gandalf was standing, and Elrond pacing worriedly. They looked up when we entered, then went back to their thoughts. Beo, Radagast, and I took our seats.  
Soon after we did that, Thranduil and Legolas came in, closely followed by Galadriel, Celeborn, and a Gondor man I recognized as the one who had spoken to the elves the day everything changed. Everyone took their seats, even Elrond, who had stopped pacing when he saw the Gondor man. The Gondor man, who upon closer inspection I recognized as Gybryn, a Gondorian captain. He had sometimes come to watch sword fighting lessons, though he had hidden himself.  
“Now that we are all here, the meeting may begin,” said Elrond, “We are here to discuss the threat of Medea and Mordor.”  
Mordor, I thought, when did they have time to go to Mordor? Nevermind, it was probably Gandalf on Shadowfax or the orcs in Mirkwood.  
“Gandalf,” Elrond said, “It is time for them to know.” Gandalf sighed. Whatever it is we needed to know, it was clear he didn’t like telling it.  
“Once I left Rohan, finding no taint of Medea there, I went to Isengard, to look through Fangorn’s library. While looking, I came across Saruman, who told me the story of Medea, hoping to be released. He told me that she was a wizard, Medea the Black, and had been his apprentice for many a year before she fled. He said that he wanted her to be the gold, but she refused, turning to a dark and dangerous path. She helped Sauron gather enough power to start looking for the one ring.”  
“Is she truly this dark?” Gybryn asked, “And if she is as powerful as you say, how can we defeat her?”  
“That is why we came here,” answered Elrond, “To figure out how to defeat her.”  
“And there is a small bit of guidance, in a very old prophecy.” Said Radagast, “That says she will rise and be defeated at the creation of earth. It also said she will be destroyed by what she created. Unfortunately, we do not know what she created.” The room’s posture sank. A prophecy that made no sense. Might as well kill off Aragog and give me the power to defeat Medea right now. I sighed in my head. I had read too many fictional books. And Aragog wasn’t going to die. I would not let that happen.  
While I had been mentally marauding, the council had been deep in thought.  
“Alescar.” Thranduil said suddenly. “Medea created Alescar.” He was right. Of course he was. Her failed spell had caused me to be born. I would have to defeat her. She would be out to kill me, though of course she wouldn’t come herself. If she did I would have a chance to kill her. All these thoughts, running through my head one after the other, swirling, connecting, breaking apart, within one second. These thoughts, that were so important yet didn’t stay long, replaced by more important thoughts. She had Aragog. She could do whatever she wanted to do with him. Hurt him, make him hurt me. But if she hurt him, she would hurt both me and Arwen. Elrond doesn’t want Arwen in pain. She could kill three birds with one stone by killing him, but she won’t, because she needs leverage. She’ll have leverage, still have Aragorn and be able to hurt Arwen and Elrond. Safety. Adventure. Beo. Aragog. Duty to Gondor. These thoughts and others were swirling around in my head, and I could see similar ones in the eyes of everyone else. The fight had just gotten much more complicated.

The rest of the council was a blur. It was decided that in one week, I would go to Minas Tirith disguised as a handmaiden. Gybryn would vouch for me, telling Medea that he knew both me and my family, and would punish all of us severely if I made a mistake. I would then get close to Medea, whether physically or emotionally didn’t matter, and kill her, releasing all from her spell. In order to have Aragog not recognise me, I would use henna to dye my black hair chestnut, and wear grey only occasionally, never wearing my color fully. My hair would be in a simple braid, to disguise the length. My eyes were plain enough, a fairly pretty light blue, the exact tone between Thranduil’s and Éowyn’s. It was a common color, unless you looked very, very closely, in which case you could see it was a bit too dark for the average human’s. Beo would also be working in the castle, as a squire.  
The journey to Minas Tirith was boring, riding on Gondor horses that Gandalf sent Shadowfax to bring. It took three days to get there from Rivendell, time that during which we did not talk much. We were too deep in thought, Gybryn wondering what words he would say, Beo worried he would make a mistake, me worried that I would not be able to kill Medea. Radagast had raised me to only harm in defence, and never wound to kill. Would I be able to get over the things ingrained in me? Yes. She had caused great pain and suffering to the free peoples of Middle Earth. That was unforgivable. If these were the orders of the council, then I would carry them out. It was prophesied that I would defeat her, and I would do it with my last breath.

When we got to the castle, we were not even interviewed, just given quarters and orders. I was at the lowest rank, it would take a while for me to get near Medea. She was acting as queen now, Aragorn not protesting. I was currently handmaiden to a duchess, but at the quality of work I did I would be promoted soon, same with Beo. he was so good at his duties that there were rumors he would become squire to the king, and I handmaiden to the apparent queen. Though these rumors started after a few weeks, it actually took two months for the promotions to occur. When it happened, Medea did not trust me at first. She felt as if she had seen me before, but could not remember where. Meanwhile, Beo told me of the plot to attack the elves. Gondor planned to attack both Lothlorien and Mirkwood at the same time, as those were where the majority of elvish powers was. I have to include, for the clarity of later events, that we got very close over those months, and may have even kissed. I tell you this only because it is relevant to what happens later, and my reactions to those events.  
We, meaning Beo, Gybryn, and I, started to wonder as to how we would warn the elves of an attack, when it hit me. We would use birds, for Radagast had taught me their language, and messages sent with them were swiftly delivered. Of course, I could not be seen talking to the birds. If I was seen, all would be lost.  
And Medea was not idle through the months I worked for her. My quarters were on the other side of a thin wall, so I could hear when she rang the bell. I could also hear who she talked to in the night. She talked to Morgoth. It was easy enough to hear she was in love with him, and looking for a way to summon him. That had to be stopped.  
One day, as I was lacing up her corset, she said,  
“I know you are in love with that squire.” It startled me so much, I almost dropped the ribbons.  
“Hold on to him,” She advised, “I had the boy I loved taken from me once. I followed him, and here I am.” I could see her reflection in the mirror, it held a small smile, but there was pain in her eyes.  
“Who took him?” I asked, feeling odd. She had never spoken to me directly.  
“A terrible darkness.” She answered, “I have been trying to get him back ever since.” I finished lacing up the corset. She twisted around, to look at me directly. “Hold on to him.” She repeated, then abruptly became cold. I could tell I was no longer wanted, but it was like she was another person entirely…  
In precisely two weeks, the armies of Gondor and Mordor set out for Lothlorien and Mirkwood. None of the emotion she’d shown me had ever returned, and I wondered if it was real. I had found out why she wanted to destroy the elves, though. They prevented her from summoning Morgoth to Middle-Earth. Today, though, something would have to be done. Medea would be meeting with Aragog in her chambers today, with both me and Beo in there, for Beo was Aragog’s squire. They would be there to discuss strategy, and we would be there to run messages. I had seen Aragog multiple times since I had started working in the castle, and he seemed like a different person entirely. He was cruel to everyone except Medea, who he seemed to worship. He was willing to kill in the cold blood. It made me shudder at the thought of what darkness could do.  
Aragog came in exactly on time. The room seemed to chill when he did. I looked at my dress. It was grey, as were the slippers I wore. Oh well, it didn’t really matter today.  
The strategy was perfect. The elves wouldn’t be expecting an attack, and retaliation would be futile. Of course, the elves were expecting an attack, and would be able to fight off the orcs and men. But Medea didn’t know that, and Beo and I wouldn’t tell her.  
When the meeting was over, Beo and I had run no messages. Our presence there was useless, unless they wanted an information leak, and they didn’t.  
“You know,” Aragog said, “I’ve never liked killing girls. She is yours. But the boy is mine.” In two swift steps, he came forwards and stabbed Beo in the chest. Boe made no move to defend himself, and I could feel that my heart was only together because it was glued with an icy revenge. Medea would pay for this.  
“Sha la si pe de sah lah col mah” She intoned. I ducked. She had just sent the most potent death curse in existence at me without batting an eye. When I ducked, though, the spell bounced off the mirror behind me and hit Medea square in the chest. From that point outward, her skin turned to charcoal around blackened bones. It was gruesome.  
As she died, I could feel the mental link opening back up, like a wall of glass had shattered. Are you okay? Aragog sent over. No. I sent back. He could feel my heartache in that word, and knew how much pain I was in.  
“We need to find Father.” He said. He was right. Aragorn could help repair things with the elves.  
" _The elves are prepared for a fight._ " I sent over our link.  
" _And how do we_ unprepare _them?_ " He asked.  
“We don't,” I said aloud. “The orcs will come for them even without Medea and Gondor. I have only lessened the danger, not defeated it.”  
He knew I was right. We would still have to fight the orcs.  
“Wait,” he said, “Medea cursed my father’s blade so that whoever possessed it would be as cold as I had been. He is still cursed.” This was bad news. The elves would still be fighting Gondor.  
“We need to get Gybryn and get out of here.” I said.  
“Gybryn?” he asked, confused. He didn’t know about the last council.  
“He’s on our side.” I said.  
“How will we get to wherever we’re going?” He asked.  
“I have friends.” I answered. Aragog sighed. He knew he wasn’t going to get any information out of me as to who those friends were.  
“In that case, Gybryn should be in the main hall.”  
“We can take him back here, there’s a secret passage that goes out of the city hidden in the back wall.” I responded, preoccupied with how to explain this predicament to the elves.  
"Where will we go?" He asked, knowing that the mental link would be the only way to get me to listen without grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.  
"Lothlorien." I responded. "Do you want to get him, or should I?" I asked him.  
"I will," He responded, "I’m less likely to get lost. And they know my face. We’re more likely to do this unnoticed if I do it.” And with that, he left. I sighed, used magic to make my hair black again, and got to work opening that secret passage.  
Within minutes Aragog was back, Gybryn right behind him. I watched as Gybryn took in the scene, Beo’s dead body next to Medea’s black bones and silk dress, me standing next to semitransparent stone, ushering them in. Aragog took a torch from one of the sconces as before he came in, so we would have light. Once we were all in the tunnel, I said the command word.  
“Vashti,” and the stone behind us turned solid. Aragog led the way, as he had the torch, and the tunnel was sometimes a ramp, sometimes stone, cut into the mountain for escape.  
When we came out, it was dusk, the same time it had been when I had fled the castle before, only now I had brought a prince and a Captain, not a queen. I whistled, two long, high calls, and was rewarded with two silver blurs on the horizon, come quickly towards us. The horses I had called checked their pace, and Aragog and Gybryn could see it was Shadowfax’s queen, Graymayre, and the prince of horses, Silverslip. They were beautiful horses, and could only be outrun by Shadowfax. Aragog and I mounted Silverslip, and Gybryn rode Graymayre. We made quick time, indeed, it was ten whole minutes until they noticed the dead bodies and absences. We were almost to Lothlorien by then, having gone through the countryside at a full gallop, startling some hunters. When Lothlorien came into view, I could see Haldir on the edge, surrounded by soldiers. It appeared that the birds had told them of Medea’s death, and he awaited tidings. We checked our pace, and when he could see our faces, he relaxed ever so slightly. At least, he did until he saw Aragog. I could see questions in his eyes. Why did I have the prince? Where was Beo? Why had we been running full tilt, as if eight Balrogs were chasing us. His questions would be answered, and more, when we arrived. And there may, in fact, be eight Balrogs chasing us, I know Medea summoned them.  
When we got to the edge of the woods and dismounted, Haldir didn’t ask questions. He knew something had gone wrong if Beo was not there, and that repeating something was pointless. He simply led us through the wood to the place where Galadriel and Celeborn were. Elrond and Arwen were there, conversing in low voices. They looked up when they saw us coming, and Arwen ran towards us, catching Aragog in a hug. Elrond smiled, glad to see his daughter happy again. Galadriel and Celeborn smiled slightly at the reunion as well, but it was turned bitter by the lack of Beo’s presence.  
“Things are much, much more dangerous than we thought,” I said. “Before I defeated her, she had conversed with Morgoth and summoned eight Balrogs.” Everyone’s eyes widened, even Aragog’s, and he had been Medea’s right hand.  
“It gets worse,” Aragog said, “Medea cursed my father’s sword so that whoever possesses it becomes the way I was when I was under her spell.”  
“And what were you like under her spell?” Elrond inquired.  
“I killed Beo.” Aragog responded. “And enjoyed it.”  
Arwen sucked in a breath. No one could blame her. Her son was a murderer.  
" _I’m a murderer,_ " Aragog thought miserably.  
" _No, you're not,_ " I replied, " _You were a tool. You had no choice but to obey her wishes._ "  
He sighed mentally.  
" _That would be a beautiful lie to believe,_ " He sent back at me.  
And it would. It could be considered either a lie or a truth, depending on the way you looked at it. It could be the truth, because he had been possessed, but it could be a lie, because he was only partially possessed, giving him the ability to have ideas. He had the idea to kill Beo, but he had been possessed. What did that make him? It made him confusing.  
“We cannot remain here.” Elrond’s voice cut through the confusion in my head. He was right. They would march upon us soon, and when they did, they would have both the strength of Gondor and Mordor. Rohan would not get involved in this. The dwarves hated us. We were alone, in the most vulnerable elvish territory. If we managed to get Anduril away from Aragorn, we may have a chance, but whoever took it would be under the spell.  
“Where can we go?” asked Arwen, “And how will we get there?”  
“We can go to Rivendell,” Elrond answered, “Although I don't know how we will get far enough away in time.”  
“Take Graymayre and Silverslip,” I said, “They will take you there in time.”  
Arwen gave me a look of amazement. Those two horses were as hard to tame as Shadowfax.  
“So that’s why they left Rivendell in such a hurry,” Elrond said, a smile in his voice. “They were coming to you. The reason we had come here at all tonight was because they had come in this direction.” Hmm. I hadn’t thought to wonder what they had been doing in Lothlorien, my mind had been preoccupied with the war. This made sense, though, since Graymayre, Silverslip, and Shadowfax usually dwelt in Rivendell. Any sudden departure by the two thought to be untamed was worth investigating. But I stray from the point.  
“How will we message each other? There are not enough birds in the world to carry what we shall need to do to Thranduil.” That was Galadriel, taking a side of reason.  
“What if Aragog went with you, and I went to Thranduil?” I mused. “Then we could use the mental link for messages.”  
“Who will go with you?” Arwen asked, “These times are too dangerous for you to go anywhere alone.” Our impromptu council thought over this for a few minutes.  
“I will go.” Celeborn announced unexpectedly. “I can keep up with her, and it will ease the tension slightly.”  
" _What tension?_ " Aragog asked in my mind.  
" _Thranduil’s my father._ " I sent back. " _I’ll give you the more of the story when we’re traveling._ "  
“So it is decided,” Elrond spoke, “But what of Gybryn?”  
“He shall remain.” Galadriel's voice and eyes were far away. “His part is here.” No one argued.

Celeborn was a silent companion as we sprinted on the western border of Mirkwood, and I gave Aragog a silent rundown of my history.  
"So you're the princess of Rohan." He said once I was finished.  
" _I’m an heir,_ " I corrected, " _So if the king and his children disappeared, I could step in. I’m not directly in line to the throne, though, and don’t want to be._ " He sighed mentally. He knew all too well the downsides of being a well-known heir.  
Beo’s father, Bain, looked at us as we sprinted past. Ah, yes. He didn’t know about his son’s fate. We would have to tell him eventually. Another thing to not look forward to. I was relieved when we passed out of his sight.  
Finally, the path to Mirkwood came into sight. Wow. times must be dark if I look forward to going into Mirkwood. We slowed down slightly so we would not trip. An elf tripping is a rare thing, but horrible. It’s all limbs until you sort it out.  
The wood seemed to want to help us today, making our journey to the split seem shorter. That was unsettling. Mirkwood never wants to help. Maybe it was afraid of Celeborn. I certainly was. He was wise, powerful, and stoic. It was the stoic that creeped me out. I’d never seen him smile.  
When we reached the doors, the guards opened them for us without question. Thranduil was pacing the hall, with Legolas following him. They looked up at us when the doors opened. They appeared to have been arguing. It broke off as soon as we came in, but from what I could hear, Legolas had been wanting to go to Lothlorien, but Thranduil was against it. Turns out they wouldn’t need to go. There was a beat of silence, then both father and son were striding towards us. Celeborn and Thranduil embraced, and Legolas and I looked at each other awkwardly.  
" _Gandalf is_ here." Aragog spoke in my mind. It mentally startled me, if that makes any sense.  
“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why have you come in such troubling times?” Thranduil asked, starting a conversation.  
“We have come for a council, of sorts.” Replied Celeborn.  
“With four people?” That was Legolas.  
“Elrond, Arwen, Galadriel, and Aragog are at Rivendell. We will use the mental link between Alescar and Aragog to communicate.” Celeborn again.  
“Aragog tells me that Gandalf is also in Rivendell.” That was me, speaking up for the first time that conversation.  
" _Elrond’s begun the council._ " Aragog said in my mind. “ _First order of business: the Balrogs._ ”  
“Alescar, what’s going on?” That was Legolas.  
“The council has decided to discuss the Balrogs first.”  
“Balrogs?” Thranduil and Legolas said it at the same time, then looked at each other. It was funny, in a way.  
“Medea summoned eight Balrogs.” Celeborn.  
“Get the dwarves involved? They hate Balrogs.” I suggested halfheartedly, then told Aragog my suggestion.  
“Gandalf says maybe, but probably not. This is not their war.” I told that to my part of the council. No one could come up with anything better, so we moved on to a different topic.  
“Armies of orcs and men coming for Lothlorien and Mirkwood tonight.” I told the council. The best we could come up with, out of both parts of the council, was try to get Anduril away from Aragorn. The problem with that, of course, was that whoever grabbed the sword would become evil. But that was all we could think up. Also, grabbing a sword while fighting is a bad idea. You’d have to grab the blade. Grabbing the blade gets your fingers cut.  
The battle would be at Lothlorien. The Mirkwood elves would take days to reach, but the Galadhrim… The fairness of Lothlorien had never seen such war. I had no idea where they would go. This would be horrible. So many lives, human and elvish, would be lost tonight. And the Orcs… They were elves, once upon a time, but they had been tortured to madness. It would be wonderful if they could be healed, but no one knew a way. All we could do was fight them or die.  
No one in middle earth but the elves and the wizards knew the origins of the Orcs. No one but the elves and the wizards knew what Morgoth had done, in the beginning of the world. And no one but the elves and the wizards could save them. Well, elves who are wizards. I knew of one spell, a very powerful healing spell of both the mental and physical. It would take an immense amount of power, though. I would probably pass out. But even the smallest change can make a large difference. And a few more soldiers could make all the difference.

We were taking elven steeds from the Mirkwood stables to get the battle. All the steeds would be used, and the rest of the soldiers would follow on foot as fast as they could. We would be joining the battle, fighting alongside our southern kin. In order to get more soldiers on horses, I would be riding with my brother. There was no more awkwardness in our family. Just the cold steel of war. The awkwardness would come back, of course, but for tonight it was gone. We would fight, and I had a trick up my sleeve, a very dangerous trick.  
The journey was a blur, our two-part council relaying battle strategies. The pace of the steed my brother and I rode was smooth, and we had no trouble conversing. Gondor didn’t have enough soldiers to surround us, so we would be mainly defending the southern border. The elvish civilians would flee to Mirkwood from the northern border. Gybryn would do his best in getting the Gondor soldiers to fight the Orcs. Our one hope was to get the sword away from Aragorn, but that would be hard. I had an idea for that, too, but it was more dangerous than the healing spell. There was no way I would be able to do both, and I hated it. I hated the feeling of weakness, of knowing that I could not do both.  
Gandalf would be coming to the battle also. That would also discourage the Gondor men from fighting. No one is powerful enough to defeat him. We would be going around the eastern side of Lothlorien, and join the battle from the side. My father would hang back to direct the soldiers, and Legolas would go straight to Gandalf. I would just fight, and try not to get killed. At least, as far as they knew.

The beginning of the battle happened quickly. I was slowly making my way towards what seemed to be the most important Orc. I remembered words, though I could not remember from where. When you fall, everything that was light about you becomes dark. The most powerful Elves would become the most powerful Orcs.  
The Orc was within earshot now. I started to chant, softly at first, then gaining strength. This was an odd spell, with a range instead of a target. If you did it in the middle of nowhere, the only thing that would happen is your energy getting drained. If you did it from the middle of a tight cluster of Orcs, all of those Orcs would transform back into Elves. It was both strange and useful. My chanting grew louder. People were starting to edge away from me, with the exceptions of Orcs and Gandalf. The Orcs were just mindless. Gandalf was looking at me with a mixture of worry, pride, and swirling ideas. I finished my chant. There was a burst of white light, knocking over everyone but Gandalf, who managed to hold his ground. The Orc I had been aiming for had once been a famous Elf. Eithelhir. A powerful general of Lothlorien. He had fought in the original war against Morgoth, and had been numbered among the dead. That brought a thought to my mind. Where were the Balrogs?  
My question was promptly answered by a roar from the southern edge of the battlefield. Hmm. I could feel my consciousness slipping away, the effects of the spell taking effect. It was now or never for my plan. Closing my eyes, I felt for the soul of Anduril. That sounds strange. In short, everything under light has a soul. Swords, plants, creatures. The souls of objects, however, were tailored to that object’s purpose. Anduril was meant to cleave Orcs. Instead, it was fighting its creators, the Elves. I used that anger, summoned it to my hand. I opened my eyes. There it was. From across the field, I could see Aragorn telling his men to fight the Orcs. The Balrogs had disappeared. I could feel the curse starting to take effect, working slowly due to my mixed blood.  
“Alescar?” Aragog asked in my mind. His thought was panicked. I held on to that thought, that lifeline, to keep my thoughts from hatred, as I felt my mind slip into blackness.

When I awoke, I could not feel the curse upon me. I no longer wielded Anduril. That was good. I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked around. I was in Minas Tirith, I could tell by the Gondorian banners on the walls, but where in that great city I could not tell.  
“ _Aragog?_ ” I asked mentally, hoping he was awake. The small window by my bed told me it was night.  
“ _Alescar?_ ” Came his sleepy reply. “ _Alescar?!_ ” I could practically feel him sit up straight, filled with new energy. “ _I’ll be right with you._ ”  
Sure enough, he soon came running in the door. He came over and kissed me, making me blush.  
“What time is it?” I asked. “About one in the morning.” He admitted, his dark blond hair going every which way.  
“Who else do I know that’s awake and here?” I asked.  
“Hmm. Thranduil and Legolas, Elrond, and maybe my parents, although they might have passed out from pacing too much.”  
“That sounds like your parents.” He laughed quietly. “So how long have I been unconscious, and what happened during that time?”  
At this, his face grew grave, but he tried to hide it.  
“You were asleep for three days, during which Elrond insisted no one bother you. He said your energy was very low, and the things you did were brave and helpful, but also foolish. What happened after you passed out was that Eithelhir did the same incantation you on a larger group of Orcs, without passing out, and so on, until there were no more Orcs, just very confused Elves. The Balrogs went to Mordor to sulk, which we’ll have to deal with, but for the most part, very few lives were lost.” That was good.  
“And the sword?” My voice was full of fearful hope.  
“Anduril’s curse has been removed. My father carries it again.” That was a relief. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.  
“Eithelhir wishes to thank you for saving him, by the way.” I dropped my face into my hands. I was going to be asked many questions over the origin of my spell.  
“You’ll do fine. You had a very powerful, very useful spell, and you saved us all. No one could begrudge you that.” His words rang true, but it wasn’t my problem.  
“I was thinking about all the questions I would be asked.” Understanding flashed across his face, replaced with reassurance.  
“You’ll be fine. You’ve stood worse than that.” He was right. He knew me so well, knew the exact words to use.  
“So what now?” I asked, changing the subject.  
“What do you mean?” He responded, “You could be talking about the future of Men and Elves. Or you could be talking about the Balrogs. Which is it?”  
“I was referring to the immediate future. Do we go back to bed? Do we wake up your parents? Do we go to Elrond, or to Radagast?” He pondered this, then answered,  
“We wait here talking until morning. I don’t think I could fall back asleep.”  
“Technically, it is morning.” I informed him. He laughed.  
“I meant sunrise.” He smiled. I did, too.  
“We could swordfight.” He suggested. I raised my eyebrows.  
“There are two things wrong with that suggestion,” I told him, “First, I hate swordfighting. Second, it’s dark.”  
He sighed, but was smiling. He knew I loved using logic as an argument.  
“Then we should probably go to Elrond. Who knows, maybe he’ll have convinced my parents to stop pacing before they passed out.” His words stated what we should do, although we both wanted to talk some more.  
“Alright.” I said, and let him pull me to my feet. I swayed. He caught me. We both blushed.  
“Maybe we should walk slowly.” He suggested. I nodded. And off we went.  
Aragorn and Arwen were asleep on a chaise lounge. Elrond was pacing, and had he not been an Elf and very light, he would have worn his way through the floor by now. He looked up as we came in, and smiled. He really was as the hobbit Bilbo Baggins described him: As noble and fair in face as an Elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of Dwarves, and as kind as a summer. All but the dwarves enjoyed his company. One of the only major disagreements with him was the love of Aragorn and Arwen, and he ended up giving them his blessing. He seemed to radiate peace and wisdom. And he couldn’t chastise at me without awakening his daughter, who was a very light sleeper. Fortunately for him, his daughter and son-in-law had been faking the sleep.  
The couple rose silently and crept up behind Elrond. Arwen caught her father in a hug. He gave a small cry, then blushed as the rest of us began to laugh. Who knew he could be embarrassed? Then Arwen came over to where Aragog and I were standing and caught both of us in a hug, which we returned without crying out. Aragorn and Elrond, standing next to each other, smiled. Aragorn was wearing Anduril. This struck me as unsafe, but he was much more careful than one would think at first glance. There were no words for a moment. Then Arwen broke the silence with a “Thank you.”  
“You're welcome.” I responded, and there were no more words, so we sat in silence until daybreak.

Two weeks later

There was to be a ball tonight, in Minas Tirith, to signify the alliance between Elves and Men. I would be arriving with my father and brother. My dress was of tight-fitting gray silk, girdled with a belt of leaves wrought in silver. It was simple. I wouldn’t allow anything more complicated. My hair was bound only by a silver circlet. My brother wore similar clothes, although had a cloak of grey that clasped with a leaf, which had veins of silver. It had been given to him by the Lady Galadriel, during his journey with the Ring. It was a sign of honor. All members of the Fellowship but Gandalf had it.

Time seemed to speed up. The ball was uninteresting, rarely catching my attention. One of the few times it did was at the very beginning, with Celeborn and Aragorn making a speech. It was boring, and both Aragog and I tuned out. “And here, we have a boring speech put on by the leaders of two nations.  
" _Nothing bad will happen if you tune out, so feel free_ to.” Aragog spoke in my mind. I smiled. His tone was of someone telling an unruly group about an uninteresting subject, and was absolutely ridiculous.  
“ _Unless, of course, there is actually important information in this speech, and you should listen._ ” I sent back. I saw him smile from across the room. He winked.  
“ _Save me a dance._ ” He sent in response. He already knew I would, though. I would always save a dance for him.

My feet hurt when the ball was over. My slippers were wonderful for running over soft soil, but had painfully thin padding on the marble floors of the castle. I knew that Aragog, in heeled boots, also felt this way about his shoes. Legolas stood beside me, watching Graymayre and Silverslip grow larger on the horizon. He and my father would be going with me as far as Mirkwood, then I would have to pass over the mountains back to Radagast on my own. We knew I could handle it. I had made it from Rhosgobel to Minas Tirith in a matter of minutes, after all, on the day it all changed. The next day, they would inform Bain of Beo’s fate. But from now on, things would be different. I would finish my apprenticeship, then go abroad, helping people who needed help. Eventually, I would have to meet my mother, but I didn’t think about that. I thought about the immediate future, how to go back to normal, and what normal meant now.  
It would definitely mean staying with Radagast, and continuing to fail sword fighting lessons with Aragog. However, it may also include visits to Mirkwood, Rivendell, and Lothlorien, as well as discontinuing to visit Bain. I would be able to actually meet people, but have to be more careful of people who hated me, such as those who dwell in Near Harad. And most of all, it would involve figuring out what I want to do with my life. That was what I was most looking forward to. And always an afterthought, I wondered what had happened to the Balrogs.  
-Alescar


End file.
